Null exe
by avatarjk137
Summary: 627, newly renamed Bloodbath, is back, and he wants to have some fun and create an ohana of his own. But his idea of fun consists of violence and a path of wanton destruction. Can Stitch and co. stop him, when they all have troubles of their own?


**avatar: If you're new, I suggest you start with my earlier fic, Experiment 000, and also read Rebel Without a Cause before moving on to this piece. If you're not new, welcome back. I know many people have been waiting a long time for this, and some people have probably stopped waiting. I'm sorry I took so long, and I'm sorry I can't promise steady updates yet. I'm involved with some character tournaments and other stuff that went on longer than I expected. Once Chapter 2 comes along, it's a safe bet that I'll be ready to return to my weekly updates. For now, here's a taste to let you know I'm not dead. If you're worried about more OCs crowding the scene, there are a few minor ones, but even the established OCs yield center stage in this fic. It's mostly about 627, Leroy, Reuben, Stitch, Lilo, and Angel. Especially 627. I won't lie, he's basically a villainous protagonist here.**

**Also, it's worth noting that there will be a point in the story after which I feel I must up the rating to M, so if you want to continue reading, you'll have to enable M-rated fics in your filters, or alert-list me. I'll try to warn you all again the chapter before that happens.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own _Lilo and Stitch,_ Chris Sanders and Disney do. I own none of the characters in this fic, except for 000, Maverick, and the H-Series Experiments (and a handful of others who aren't very important).  
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**Chapter 1**

**A Modest Proposal**

Jumba gently bit his lip as he poured a green chemical from a vial into a pink chemical in a beaker. He wasn't really researching, experimenting, or doing any sort of mad science- just going through the motions to unwind. Ever since the ship had been wrecked in that big fight with the H-Series Experiments, Jumba's scientific tendencies had been confined to the small backup lab he kept in about a third of the bedroom he shared with Pleakley. Sure, he had gotten to work right away on ordering a new ship, but it was the end of summer now, and he didn't have one yet, now did he?

Not that it was his fault. In just one day, he had picked out the model he wanted - an ugly but easily disguised thing with plenty of space and all the equipment necessary to run a one-man science vessel. And if he sold his dusty old Galaxy Defense Industries lab (which he doubted he'd use again), it'd be well within his means. But when he went to order it, he'd found out that his credit was all screwed up - courtesy of a long and interesting series of screw-ups Pleakley had perpetrated. Nothing good had come out of that (except for an idea for an evil Experiment - primary function: identity theft and subsequent racking up of large bills through buying novelty Slip-n-Slides). After a month or so of straightening that out, Jumba had finally ordered the ship - only for the initial shipment to be lost in a wormhole accident because the _nala queesta_ pilot of the space freighter accidentally put himself in cryogenic hibernation. Then another few weeks of arguing over email with the shipping company over who would pay for the replacement for _that._ Now a new one was on its way again, but it'd still be another three weeks before Jumba had a new lab, given how backwater Earth was.

Jumba heard a sigh, and noticed Stitch laying sprawled on his bunk. The quadrocular scientist had been so busy collecting his thoughts and watching beakers fizz over that he hadn't noticed his favorite Experiment come in (Jumba knew he shouldn't play favorites, but still...). "626, why are you exhaling so heavily? Where is little girl?"

"Lilo's gone to feed Pudge again," Stitch explained in Turian. His English was almost perfect now, but he was still more comfortable with the language he'd been programmed with, and tended not to speak English when there were no humans around to benefit from it.

"Little fish is extraordinarily long-lived," Jumba muttered. "Perhaps I should do cellular analysis."

"She wouldn't like that." Another sigh.

"What is being wrong, 626?"

"It's Angel... the relationship's on the rocks. Again. Jumba, you were married once. What is it about women?"

Jumba broke into a round of raucous laughter. "You do not want to be asking Jumba about women! The only one I ever landed was ex-wife, and I was regretting it! You should ask little girl."

"Lilo? Lilo's so different from Angel, Jumba. Besides, she's my best friend - she's almost like a twin sister to me."

"You could ask Bigger Girl." Now Jumba was shining different lights on the resulting chemical, watching it light up in different ways.

Stitch moaned and rolled over. "Nani knows even less about what Angel would want. Besides, she's always busy _and _she's still mad at me for the whole lamp thing."

Jumba tried not to chuckle in memory of the lamp incident. "Ah, yes. Well... you could be asking Pleakley." A beat passed, and then they both burst out laughing.

"Ah, thanks, Jumba, I feel better now." Stitch got up. "I know. I'll ask her out to dinner with us when we go to Sinker's restaurant later tonight."

"Bah!" Jumba waved a meaty club of an arm. "I am not caring for raw fish rolled in vinegared grains and weed of sea. Hardly any of it is batter-fried or full of oils!"

"Lilo just explained to you this morning, we're not getting sushi there tonight. Sword got a job as a hibachi chef, and we're there to check up on the H-Series Experiments, so that's what we're having."

"Hmm... what is hibachi being like?"

"Lilo had never had it either, but she says it's grilled right in front of you, and the chefs show off and make it look really cool."

"Well, if it is grilled, then it will probably agree with my evil genius stomach."

"Yeah, not like that time I tried blowfish... I'm going to go invite Angel now, while there's still time. Later, Jumba." Stitch hopped out the window and quickly crawled down to ground level.

Jumba smiled. Things were looking up: his lab was finally on its way, Stitch would soon patch things up with his bugee-bu, Hamsterviel was dead, Leroy was still firmly locked up, and nobody had heard from 627 in two months.

---

It was late. On board the BRB 9000, they followed the same time zone as the capitol city of the Galactic Federation (Prime Turo Time), and following that schedule, it was very late. The skeleton crew that manned the bridge for the graveyard shift were long settled in, and most of the main crew and officers were asleep. However, Captain Gantu, figurehead of the Federation's military might, and his longtime friend and Galley Officer, Experiment 625 aka Reuben, were still up.

Gantu had taken up some new martial art from some isolated planet that theoretically allowed an individual to function at the same level on half as much sleep (the masters were to forgo sleep entirely, and were witnessed staying alert under watch for months at a time). Considering what percentage of his body and mind Reuben used, he simply could normally maintain his level of alertness on an hour of sleep a night. Right now, he was doing just that, just to one-up Gantu and watch early morning cooking shows without Tivo.

Right now, they were using this extra time awake to ponder the depths of their personalities. "What do you mean? You're a madman, Chief, a madman!" Reuben accused.

"I just prefer store-bought icing on my cakes over the homemade stuff. That's all. You don't have to make such a big deal about it, Reuben."

"Oh, I'm making a big deal? Last week was Zor's birthday, and you refused to eat any of the cake Spee made because it had homemade chocolate buttercream icing on it!"

"I don't like buttercream icing."

"Buttercream icing is the best of the best!"

"Whatever. All I did was refuse a slice of cake."

"Spee is _my _hand-picked sous-chef, G! He bunks in my quarters, and he was crying all evening! He looks up to you, and he slaved over that mixer, sifting and _resifting_ flour all day, and you refused the cake because of the icing!"

"If you ask me, Spee is a wee bit… sheltered for life in the military."

"Okay, so he's not a hard-ass like you, and he doesn't handle stress beautifully, but _dammit, _Gantu, he was the best cook of the bunch head and shoulders!"

"I thought this was about icing, not your priorities in sous-chefs."

"It is, and that reminds me! The problem isn't that it was buttercream, because I've seen you refuse regular chocolate icing as well. After we won that battle, Spee made all those cakes, and you requested canned icing for yours, even though he was using three different chocolate icing recipes already!"

"Why didn't you help Spee, Reuben? He was making cakes and icing for a crew of 650." A door hissed open, but they ignored it.

"I was making the main course for the crew. He just needed to do dessert, we agreed on that beforehand! And don't try to change the subject again!"

"Yeah, Gantu, don't try to change the subject!" a raspy voice chimed in.

"Shut up, 627, this doesn't concern you!" Gantu dismissed. "Reuben, I wasn't changing the subject, I was just sidetracked myself! My attention span suffers when I lose sleep long-term, and… wait, 627?!"

"See, there you go again, but that isn't going to work on OH SHIT REALLY?!" Reuben leapt out of the chair, and Gantu had already gotten up from his own, blaster in hand and pointed at 627. The Experiment, who had sat down behind Reuben at the officer's lounge counter, didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

"It's Bloodbath now, by the way."

"Put your hands up, scumbag," Gantu whispered.

"Oh, come on, do you really think that'll work on me? Even if you were well-rested, it'd be pointless." Gantu's arm began to shake, and Bloodbath pressed on. "If I wanted you dead, you would be." The arm was even shakier. "But I'm not going to kill you in here, the lighting's all wrong. If somebody stumbles upon _your _body, it would need to be something special. Every variable to inspire terror must be at absolute maximum." Gantu's arm dropped. "See, now that wasn't so hard, was it? I can even talk your arm down. It's hard to believe that eight months ago, all I could say was 'evil.'" The Experiment formerly known as 627 gave a harsh, short bark of a laugh, so different from his evil cackling, and yet so similar.

Now that he had gotten to something near calm, Reuben was able to get a good look at Bloodbath, and he was shocked all over again. Bloodbath looked sick… like engaged-in-a-long-battle-with-cancer sick. His black, shiny eyes were actually a dark reddish grey compared to the darkness of the bags under them. His fur looked greasy, unkempt, and uneven, and was actually falling out in places. The fur around his wide mouth had almost completely fallen away, revealing black lips chapped, dry and dotted with scabs. An ominous darker shadow of a line diagonally crossed his facial fur, from the left side of his triangular forehead, down between his eyes, just to the side of his nose, sliding to the side along his lips to trail down under the right side of his jaw. In short, his body looked sick, but judging from the smile he wore (along with faded, torn black cargo pants and an open brown aviator's jacket with lots of buckles), his mind was only as sick as it had always been. Bloodbath looked down at Reuben, regarding him coldly. "Need a hand there… cousin?" he asked with a nasty grin and a blast of halitosis filtered through yellow teeth and white-speckled black gums.

"I'm fine, thanks," Reuben mumbled, getting to his feet and brushing his uniform off before he sat down. He knew Bloodbath, and the lack of open violence was even more alarming than its usual presence. What was wrong with his face, and what did he want enough to be polite?

"Good, because I have this great proposal that you guys _have_ to hear… is there any beer around here?"

"No," Gantu said distastefully. "I don't allow drugs or alcohol on my ship. It would wreck my officers' performance."

"Yeah, I'd figure _you'd_ say that, ya prude," Bloodbath said. He let loose another short, barking laugh, but it dissolved into a throaty cough. "Reuben?" He coughed.

Gantu was about to answer again, but Reuben looked away and answered, "The fridge. Press the little fridge light _up_ to open the secret officer's beer cabinet that Big G doesn't know about."

"Thanks," he coughed, walking calmly over to the fridge.

"I feel so betrayed," Gantu sighed.

"Look, the officers drink responsibly, _you_ picked or trained with most of them, G. But we need to unwind after a long day of working under _you._"

"Not that. Well, that too, but… why'd you tell him like that? Don't tell me he's hypnotizing you?"

"No," Bloodbath called from the fridge with another cough, "I could have, but I didn't have to. Ooh, this is good stuff!"

"I figured if we start holding back information, he was just going to beat it out of us at some point," Reuben said with a shrug.

"You see?" the orange Experiment asked as he came back from the fridge, open lager in hand. He drank deeply and continued, "'The threat of power is as strong as the power itself.' A good quote, isn't it?"

"What's it from, Sun Tzu?" Gantu asked.

"It's from a card game, I think," Reuben corrected.

"A pulp fiction novel," Bloodbath said. "You guys didn't think I'd go into hiding for months with no reading material?"

Reuben was far more interested in something else. "Hey 627-"

"Bloodbath."

"-Bloodbath, right… what's with the coughing?"

"Oh, I got that summer cold that's going around," Bloodbath hastily answered. Reuben's eyes narrowed in suspicion - Experiments didn't get 'summer colds', especially not Experiment 627. "I'm touched you care, though."

"We don't," Gantu spat. "Look, 'Bloodbath', you're here for some 'proposal', right? Well, out with it!"

"Well, it's just for you guys, because you've been such special pals to me," Bloodbath said with a grin. "Gantu, you're a cold-hearted soldier of soldiers who took me in when nobody else would and gave direction to my chaos, and I can't thank you enough for that. And Reuben, not once, but twice, you've stuck around to play my whipping boy. All of Stitch's powers, and as faithful as an abused bloodhound; you've gotta appreciate that!" Bloodbath laughed, and started to cough again, but quickly drowned the cough in cold beer.

"Why do I feel insulted?" Reuben muttered.

"You shouldn't," Bloodbath said cheerily, slamming the bottle down and cracking it. "It's a compliment."

"Enough of your pathetic excuses for flattery!" Gantu barked. "Just put the deal on the table so we can reject it already!"

Bloodbath leapt up on the table. "Join my ohana!" he cried out. After nobody spoke for a moment, he continued. "Come with me, and I'll share my power with you! Reuben, you could overcome your fears! Gantu, I can give you power, and all the time in the universe to enjoy it! We'll find more people to join our ohana – nobody will be forgotten! And those who don't want to join… well, we'll have FUN with them! No duties, no responsibility… just an eternity of wonderful, destructive fun! Whaddaya say?!"

"Yeah, that sounds fun, I'll just pack my suitcase and off I go," Rueben said sarcastically. "What did you think my answer was gonna be?"

"What, you don't want an _eternity_ of fun?" The experiment seemed genuinely surprised. "I have a list of people I'm going to have join us right here in my pocket."

"NO!" Gantu snapped. "We're doing better for ourselves since we went straight than we ever did working under Hamsterviel!"

"We won't be working under Hamsterviel. I killed him, then mailed you his head. Remember?"

Gantu shuddered. "Yes, I remember just fine. You're missing the point. The point is that I'm glad to have straightened out. I'm happier on the side of good than I ever was when I was doing that rodent's evil bidding, and although I thank you for finally putting him out of our misery…" Gantu walked to the door, which slid open. "…we're not interested in anything you're selling. Here's the door."

"Don't let it hitcha on the way out," Reuben muttered darkly.

"Gantu, you're not in on this either? Don't you remember how much fun you had teamed up with me those couple of days? I'll let you wear the crown again."

"That tacky thing?" Gantu snorted. "Definitely not interested."

"Yeah, you tell him, G."

Bloodbath descended into another mighty fit of spastic coughing. When he finally straightened up, he gulped down the rest of his drink before looking genuinely hurt. "All right... I get it... I know you guys think you're fine." Taking the cracked bottle, he swaggered to the door and looked straight up at Gantu. "If this is the decision you make," he said soberly, "I am truly sorry."

Gantu took a deep breath, exhaling through gritted teeth. "It is." His hand was still on his gun.

"Next time you see me, I won't be so nice. And don't try to follow or track me; you'll find it futile." Bloodbath brushed past, and turned invisible as he walked down the hallway. Unseen to anybody but himself, he pulled a small PDA from his pocket. On the touch-sensitive screen was a list of names and faces; Hamsterviel was crossed out at the top, but all the other names were whole. 627 gently traced a line crossing out Gantu's name, but after a moment's hesitation, grinned and left Reuben's blank. Below Reuben were more names, among them Lilo and Jumba. Also on the list were many Experiments - Leroy, Maverick, Absolute, Sword, Shield, Angel, Stitch...

**End of Chapter**

**Next Chapter, Lilo and company go to meet up with the H-Series Experiments at a hibachi restaurant. Also, Bloodbath revises his offer to one that can't be refused.**

**While you're waiting for me to get off my ass and finish this fic, why not check out the second tournament I'm hosting, A Winner is Two - A Survivalist is You? You take control of a character from any canon and bring them to a tropical island, where they fight to the death with your opponent's characters. Your fights are judged against those of other authors by a council of impartial judges who are all veterans of the first A Winner Is You. Last author standing wins a request fic from me.  
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